


Turbulence (in his chest)

by oleksiacois



Series: Brock/Petey tumblr prompts [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleksiacois/pseuds/oleksiacois
Summary: Idly, Brock scrolls through his text conversations, wondering if he’d somehow managed to forget inviting Petey to dinner with his mom.





	Turbulence (in his chest)

Brock’s family is coming up to visit.

Brock is just working out some details with his mom over text, last minute before the team boards a flight out to Denver, when she asks,  _Does Elias have any food allergies?_

 _I’ll ask_ , he answers, because he thinks the answer is no but better safe than sorry. The boarding announcement comes on over the airport speakers.  _boarding now, talk soon!_

The plane is long in the air by the time it occurs to him to wonder why she’d wanted to know that.

Idly, Brock scrolls through his text conversations, wondering if he’d somehow managed to forget inviting Petey to dinner with his mom. He hits the point where the old texts have been cleared away before he finds the answer, though, and he refuses to pay for airplane wifi, out of principle, to load more.

Brock puts his phone down and thinks about it. His mom often asks him how Petey’s doing, if he’s settling into the NHL okay, if he likes this or that. Definitely more than she asks after his other teammates, except maybe Troy, whom he lives with. But then, he rooms with Petey the other half of the time, so maybe that’s natural?

That must be it, he decides, eyes scanning the plane cabin until he lands on Petey. His mom asks about Petey — and Troy — because Brock lives with them, or basically does. Nothing more to it.

Well. He probably talks about Petey a lot, too, he realizes. They’re best buddies after all. Brock always has a lot to say about Petey.

Like, right now, Petey’s sitting and talking with Goldy — in English, the native language of neither of them — even though the rest of Swedes have grouped up to play some rousing Scandinavian card game, and he could be joining them. Brock watches as something Petey says makes Goldy grimace, and Petey laughs, a little meanly. 

Brock has no idea what was said, but he laughs, too. Petey turns and catches his eye, a question on his face even while he’s still smirking from whatever he’s teasing Goldy about. Brock’s heart skips a beat.

 _Oh_.

Brock shrugs at Petey and manages a shaky smile. Petey nods at him, turning back around. Brock is left blinking at the back of his head.

 _I have— I have a crush on Petey_ , he thinks, testing the sound of the words. There’s something buzzing inside of his chest. It’s probably turbulence.

“You okay there, man?” Troy asks from the seat next to him, barely looking up from his Switch.

“Fine,” Brock answers, measured. Troy does look at him then, if only to give him a weird glance from the corner of his eye, but then goes right back to Mario Kart, or whatever it is he’s playing. He’s blissfully unaware of the internal gay crisis Brock is having  _right now_.

Unaware like Brock had been, fifteen minutes ago. Fuck.

Brock sits on that crisis for the rest of the flight, and then all the way onto the bus. Troy keeps glancing at him, but he says nothing, and Brock is grateful. He’s not sure he has the braining necessary to make the words go, at the moment.

Unfortunately, Petey doesn’t show him the same mercy. Petey never shows mercy. Brock —  _fuck_  — loves that about him.

He climbs over halfway through the bus ride and nudges Troy until he gives up his spot with a grumble. Taking over the seat next to Brock, Petey turns to him and says, right off the bat, “You’ve been staring at me.”

Brock doesn’t answer.

Petey rolls his eyes. “It is okay. I am very handsome, of course you like to stare at me.”

Brock  _especially_  doesn’t answer now, because that’s — well. It’s pretty true.

Petey narrows his eyes. He seems increasingly thrown by Brock’s silence.

“Brock,” he says, poking him hard in the ribs. “Brock—”

“My mom asks if you have food allergies,” Brock interrupts. Petey’s eyes widen out, and he blinks at him.

“Why?” he asks.

“You should come to dinner with us. We, um, we want you to.”

“Oh,” Petey says. His expression is pensive, like all of Brock’s behaviour is a big equation that he’s trying to add up in real time. “Okay?”

“Great,” Brock says, then lapses into silence.

“Hm.” Petey squints at him again, then, blessedly, lets it go. He turns to look out the window, leaning just a little bit against Brock’s side. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but now it makes Brock feel like he’s just done twenty bag skates in a row: sweating hard and close to passing out. It’s worse when he remembers they’ll be sleeping about ten feet apart tonight.

It’s going to be a long road trip.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on my rpf tumblr @oleksiacois — I take prompts!


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